If It's In Your Head
by Ace of Gallifrey
Summary: "If it's in your head, it's in mine." As the TARDIS travels on, something's upsetting Donna. But what is it? Sequel to Our Journey Goes On, but stands on its own. I think this qualifies as 'angsty fluff' if there is such a thing.


**Title-** If It's In Your Head  
**Characters/Pairings-** Ten/Donna, cameos by others  
**Rating-** T for general angst  
**Summary-** "If it's in your head, it's in mine." As the TARDIS travels on, something's upsetting Donna. But what is it? Sequel to Our Journey Goes On, but stands on its own. I think this qualifies as 'angsty fluff' if there is such a thing.

**A/N-** I have officially discovered the ultimate Doctor/Donna JE song. Wherever You Will Go by The Calling. Look up the lyrics, and think of Donna (or, for that matter, the Doctor) speaking from her heart in Journey's End. I dare you not to cry a little. "So lately, been wonderin', who will be there to take my place? When I'm gone, you'll need love, to light the shadows on your face..." I'm normally opposed to songfic, but I might have to do a JE study with this one...

* * *

_"Can you see the beauty inside of me?  
What happened to the beauty I had inside of me?  
And I miss you when you're not around,  
I'm getting ready to leave the ground."  
-U2 _

* * *

Life on the TARDIS had settled back into a regular pattern disturbingly quickly. They had left Rose and the other Doctor- the Doctor had taken to calling him "John" to avoid confusion- in parallel Norway, the Doctor had had a minor emotional breakdown, and then they had been on their way.

The Doctor had insisted on running a genetic scan on Donna, to determine how the metacrisis had affected her, but in the end, there hadn't been much to worry about. Gallifreyan base pairs had been spliced seamlessly into her DNA patterns, with an elegance that would, according to the Doctor, have made a geneticist weep with joy. Of course, there was no definitive way to say what the long-term effects would be, but based on the functional analysis of the test results, he guessed that she would have a significantly extended life span- a few extra centuries, at least- and a stronger respiratory system. And, naturally, there were her incredibly expanded mental capacities.

But in the end, it hadn't changed much else. Once Donna reached her limit for tolerance of the Doctor's poking and prodding, that was that, and they were off to Felspoon.

It hadn't been a perfectly smooth visit- there had been a bit of difficulty with a large carnivorous worm feeding on the natives- but compared to their recent confrontation with Davros, it had been child's play. And since their time on the planet had ended with the two of them hiking to into the foothills and watching as the famous swaying mountains danced in the evening breeze, starkly highlighted against the purple sky, the Doctor considered it very successful all-around.

From there, they had popped back in time a day or so to see Sylvia and Wilf and assure them that everything was alright after the Dalek attack. Sylvia had clung to her daughter, sobbing, as they recounted what had happened aboard the Crucible, while Wilf and the Doctor locked eyes in silent understanding over their heads.

The visit had lasted far longer than the Doctor would have liked, considering it meant he had to spend a significant amount of it in the presence of Sylvia Noble (it was _always_ the mothers!), but it would make Donna happy, so he put up with it. At this point, he was willing to do anything and everything to make Donna happy. She had saved him in every imaginable way.

Strangely, though, as the hours stretched out, Donna's mood grew darker, rather than happier. She grew quieter, and the Doctor knew he wasn't the only one who noticed. Sylvia was too busy chattering to see the depressing of her daughter's expression, but the Doctor noticed Wilf watching the redhead more and more closely as the day went on.

Eventually, Donna stood up. "Alright then," she said with plastered-on cheerfulness. "We should be going, I think. Off to see the universe, and that."

"Don't go, Donna," Sylvia pleaded. "Stay here, with us."

Donna shook her head, and she shot a glance at the Doctor which he couldn't interpret. "I can't, Mum," she said softly. "I just… You'd understand, if you'd seen it out there. Staying here, after doing all that and seeing everything that's out there… I couldn't do it. I belong on the TARDIS now."

For so many years, the Doctor had heard his friends imply much the same thing over and over again. But no one had ever come right out and said that- _I belong on the TARDIS_. And he didn't think it had ever been more true than it was in Donna's case. Part Time Lord, part human, and all his.

_Well, maybe not all_, he reminded himself. She was his best friend, and that would have to be enough.

Donna said her goodbyes as he was lost in this train of thought, and then they were leaving. Sylvia gave him a nod with an expression just a step below frigid on her face. He couldn't blame her; he was taking her daughter off to some wild place where she couldn't watch over her.

Wilf followed them to the door and, as Donna rummaged in the closet for a coat that she'd somehow forgotten to pack last time around, he leaned close to the Doctor. "Take care of her," he said softly. Before the Doctor could speak, Wilf cut him off. "Oh, I know you will," he assured him. "I see the way you are around her. You're good to her, and good for her. But it's my duty as her grandfather to tell you that anyway."

The Doctor smiled. "Thank you, Wilf," he said. He wasn't quite sure what he was thanking him for, but it had to be said.

They shook hands as Donna pulled her head out of the closet, triumphantly clutching the coat she'd been looking for.

"Alright, Spaceman," she said, with something less than her usual spirit. "Let's go."

They had gotten back into the TARDIS and popped off to watch a supernova in the Silvoni Cluster, and then, according to Donna, that was more than enough excitement for one day.

The Doctor couldn't agree more. Neither of them had actually slept since sometime before their encounter with the Tricksters Brigade on Shan-Shen, just before the confrontation with Davros. The two of them parted ways, heading to their separate bedrooms.

* * *

The Doctor couldn't sleep. That wasn't an unusual state of affairs, most days, but he was exhausted. He couldn't seem to doze off, though, and he wasn't sure why. There was something prickling at the back of his mind, near the place where his connection with the TARDIS lay. It _wasn't _the TARDIS, though. It was something else… and it was causing a sick, anguished feeling to settle in his hearts.

He gave up on sleep and stood up, wandering aimlessly through the halls. He could sense the TARDIS rearranging corridors ahead of him to guide him… somewhere.

It only took him a minute to realize that he was being led to Donna's room, and it suddenly occurred to him that the prodding feeling of overwhelming sadness could be coming from her. He quickened his pace, not quite running but certainly not taking his time, either.

He reached her room quickly, but on the threshold he hesitated, unsure whether or not to knock. He was tempted to just walk in- that was how worried he was- but it seemed discourteous. The decision was made for him when he heard a soft sob issue from behind the door. He pushed the door open softly and stepped inside.

Donna was curled up on her bed in her powder blue pyjamas, clutching a pillow to her chest and shaking as she cried. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes were bloodshot.

The Doctor's hearts clenched at seeing her so visibly shaken. He'd seen Donna cry before. She had wept at Pompeii, and she had shed tears for the plight of the Ood, and when they had witnessed the fall of Miradon, she had stood with him on the hilltop above the burning city with tears coursing down her cheeks. However, he'd never seen her like this, her whole body quivering as she hiccuped desperately, struggling to breathe between sobs. It terrified him, seeing unsinkable Donna Noble so obviously pulled under.

He was at her side in a second, sitting next to her and pulling her into his arms. "What is it, Donna?" he whispered into her hair. "What's the matter?"

She squeezed up against him, curling her fingers around his shirt and burying her face in his shoulder. She clung to him and, if anything, sobbed even harder.

Seriously alarmed, now, the Doctor, ran a hand up and down her back soothingly, trying to reassure her in the only way he knew how. Feeling her consciousness, he sent little pulses of comfort down the newly discovered telepathic link. After several minutes, it seemed to work, because her crying quieted. As she regained her composure, though, she only held on tighter to the Doctor.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly.

Donna finally let go of him. She sniffled and sat back, looking miserable. "If it's in your head, it's in mine," she said in a pathetic little voice.

It took him a few seconds to work it out. "What-? Oh." His hearts sank as the heartbroken expression on her face finally made sense. "Oh Donna. You've got my memories, too?"

She nodded.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I should have guessed-"

"Why would you?" she asked, sounding a bit more like her usual self. "I didn't even realize it, at first. There was so much else to think about... it wasn't until I was talking to Gramps earlier that it started to move to the front. I was thinking about how he and I are so much like you were with Susan..." On the long-lost granddaughter's name, she choked a little, struggling with tears again. "It just brought everything rushing up, piece by piece."

The Doctor felt his hearts break a little. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I can take them away...?" He extended his hands halfway, offering to pull out the bits of his life that had bled into her mind.

"Don't you dare," she said with a choking little laugh. "You need someone, like I told you. You need somebody who knows."

He looked at her sadly. "But it's hurting you so much. I don't like seeing you hurt."

Donna shook her head fiercely. "And you think I like seeing you hurt?" she demanded. "You're so sad, Doctor. You do a good job of hiding it, and sometimes you even manage to distract yourself from it for awhile, but it's always right there, waiting to grab you next time the universe kicks you down. And now I know why. Oh god, it's... Doctor, I remember the day Arcadia fell. I remember seeing Braxiatel's TARDIS shot down right in front of you. I remember Katarina screaming as she died. I remember Romana telling you to rip open the Eye of Harmony..." Tears were pouring silently down her cheeks again. "And even the things that should've been happy, people finding new lives and new purposes and beautiful new ways to live... even then, they're still leaving you behind. They still walk out that door, and you're on your own again."

She let out a sound of frustration and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Your life... it's such a bittersweet story, Doctor. No good without the bad to go along with it."

The Doctor closed his eyes and held her close and breathed in her tangy Donna smell. "Is that what's upset you?" he asked.

He felt her nod. "I hate knowing that it's had to be like that for you. Even before the War, you were still so alone. You had a home, but you couldn't realistically go back, and... oh Doctor, it's just not _fair_!"

At that, he had to smile, because it was such a Donna thing to say.

"It's alright, Donna," he assured her. "It's alright. I'm fine. I'm here, and I'm alright."

She chuckled weakly. "Special Time Lord code?" she asked.

"No," he said. "Not this time." He let go of her and forced her to look at him, taking her hands in his. "When we first met, I was in the darkest place I'd been in my life. My home was gone, and I'd just lost the person I used as a substitute for all that. I thought that was it. I thought I'd never be happy again. I wanted to die. But you made me laugh again, and you stopped me from going too far and taking my own life. You saved me that day, and you've been saving me ever since."

She blinked and blushed and looked down at their joined hands.

"This particular regeneration of mine is... probably too nostalgic for my own good. And I know that. I'm sure if my past selves could see me now, they'd be rolling their eyes. Blame it on spending too much time with you humans, I guess." Needing to make her understand, he pressed on, "You make all that better, Donna. I can have just the worst day, and then you take my hand and it's alright. Since the day we met, you've made sure I'm not alone anymore."

She turned that pretty shade of pink again. "Somebody's got to take care of you," she said. "What with you being too busy saving the universe to watch out for yourself."

The Doctor grinned. "Hey, you've done quite a bit of universe-saving yourself, Miss Noble."

Donna's embarrassed expression shifted into a cheeky grin. "So I have, haven't I? You know what? You're right, Spaceman. I _am_ good!"

"You okay, then?" the Doctor asked. "You're sure having all... all that in your head doesn't bother you?"

"I didn't say it didn't bother me," she said. "I just said you need somebody around who understands about that stuff. I'm tough, Doctor. I can take it." She pushed back the purple quilt and slid into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin, child-like. "And if you don't mind, now that I'm sorted, I really do think we should get to sleep." She grinned at him, then curled up and closed her eyes.

The Doctor hesitated, then bent over and kissed her softly on the forehead. "Night, Donna," he whispered. He crossed to the door and the TARDIS clicked off the light.

As he paused in the doorway, looking at Donna's face bathed in the light from beyond the doorway- surprisingly peaceful for as distraught as she had been only a few minutes before- the Doctor suddenly knew. He was going to fall in love with Donna Noble. He was going to fall for his best friend.

And that didn't bother him one bit.

* * *

So. Much. Cheese. Couldn't help myself. Blame the plot bunnies. It's their fault.


End file.
